


Broken Bones and Empty Whiskey

by spooky_time



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14327823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooky_time/pseuds/spooky_time
Summary: Morgan Jones, the younger sister to Jessica Jones, can never catch a break. Thrown into Kilgrave drama, dead family coming back and even tossed into an alternate universe where she's just a comic book superhero, all she wants is a break.*So I'm really bad at summaries but, yeah, it's gonna be a pretty busy story with tons of storylines and original characters.





	1. AKA Yellow Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so, this is my first story on here. I'd really like to keep it going so. If you enjoy it, or have any suggestions, please tell me!

       It was one of those rare, quiet nights where everything was seemingly still. Jessica Jones was sat, hunched over her desk, pouring over a case, drinking crappy, bottom-of-the-shelf whiskey. Meanwhile, her younger sister sat only feet away, her nose deep in an old and worn book. Occasionally Morgan would make a noise, or the couch would creak in protest at her presence. But other than that, the apartment was silent. That was, until, three loud knocks echoed throughout the room. The two Jones' shared a look before standing and moving towards the door.

       “Hey, Morgan, are you in there?”  
  
       Jessica rolled her eyes and traveled back towards her desk. She honestly wasn’t quite sure who she’d been expecting. Trish? Definitely not. With a quick wave of Morgan’s hand, the door opened, revealing Thompson, tousled brown hair, green eyes glimmering with mischief. The young man pulled Morgan into his arms and hugged her as tightly as possible.  
  
       “God damn, I’ve missed you.”

       Jessica scoffed, pulled the glass towards her, and took a long swig. It’s not like she didn’t trust Tom… It was that she  _really_  didn’t trust him. When Morgan introduced them, Jessica stayed up late into the night, searching up anything she could find on him. But nothing. He seemed like a squeaky-clean guy. But lately, the responsible younger sister had been staying out later and later. Jessica, who wasn’t much a worrier, was worried about Morgan. Maybe it had something to do with this Thompson dude, maybe it didn’t. But either way, she was going to figure it out.  Not right now though, right now the half-drank bottle of Jose Cuervo was calling her name. 

       As night fell away, the navy blue curtain was pulled back, revealing a baby blue canvas, splattered with watercolor pinks and shimmering whites. Jessica awoke to a startlingly loud bang. An involuntarily groan escaped her mouth, a dull thrumming in the back of her head. She was so used to it by now that quite honestly it would’ve been strange to wake without some kind of painful reminder of her night. Jim, Jack, and Jose were still partying when she finally managed the energy to rise. Phone in hand, feet smacking cold floor, Jess stumbled into the kitchen to find the resident drug addict snacking on smooth peanut butter. He gave her a quick, unenthused once over.

       “Why are you in my apartment?” The hungover female cocked her brow.  
  
       “I’m not-"  
  
       Snatching the jar from his hand hands, Jessica tossed it onto the counter. “You’re in mine.”

       “ _That’s_  why it’s not crunchy...”

       “Yeah, that’s why.”    
  
       There were two beats of silence before Jessica grabbed Malcolm's wrist and began leading him through the living room.

       "You know, your door’s broken.”  
  
       “I hadn’t noticed.”  
  
       The two paused at the entryway, Jessica with one hand on the door, the other firmly locked around Malcolm's wrist. 

       “You use sarcasm to distance people,” an accusatory finger went up, dark brown eyes settling intensely on the woman in front of him. Jessica could only sigh in utter exasperation.

       “And yet, you’re still here. Now go the hell home.” With that, she opened the door. However, in doing so, interrupted an older couple mid-knock. With Malcolm looming over her shoulder and two potential clients in front of her, the choice was easy. Made even easier when the elevator at the end of the hall opened, and Morgan stepped out.

       “Look, Malcolm, see if Morgan can help you,” and with that, she shoved the man passed the two older people -who for the most part occupied her entire doorway - Malcolm stumbling past, right into the arms of the younger Jones. Malcolm's arms firmly around Morgan’s midsection, Morgan let out a startled yelp before realizing who had pretty much fallen into her.  
  
       “C’mon Mal, let’s go,” with that, the two walked the couple feet to his apartment. There Morgan made the split-second decision to enter with him, and the two awkwardly tumbled forward, Morgan landing on top of Malcolm, who’d take the brunt of the fall. He let out an awkwardly long and painful groan but said nothing more. Morgan quickly clambered to stand back up, even managing to heave Malcolm up - even though her strength nowhere neared Jessica’s.

       “You’re bleeding,” Malcolm muttered, reaching his hand out to move Morgan’s jacket. Instead of flinching away, or even moving to cover herself, the young woman remained still. His skin was warm against hers, and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Thompson was always cold. His skin felt like winter. It didn’t take long for the moment to be over though, reality sinking in fast, so Morgan bent down to grab the fallen piece of clothing.  
  
       "Yeah, I got into a little scuffle with some folks down the road." Morgan walked the distance between the two and gently led Malcolm to his bed, which was just an old mattress on the floor. “Get some sleep, okay Mal? I’ll see you tomorrow." Before she exited the dingy apartment, the female turned around, "you like crunchy, right?” The man merely nodded, a semi-thoughtful look on his face.

       Later that afternoon, the two Jones sister's found themselves in similar situations. Morgan was idling on the couch while Jessica clicked through Hope's profile. Occasionally they would say something to one another, exchange some witty banter, an offer to get food, among other random things. Whatever it was, they would immediately fall back into silence afterward. The conversation didn't live long between the two. It's not like the silence was uncomfortable though, they were just both content doing their own thing, enjoying one another's company silently. That was, until nightfall again. Jessica made some piss poor excuse to get out of the house, while Morgan hoped off the couch and flung the door open with a mere wave of her hand.  
  
       "Tom, again?"

       "Yes, Tom again." Morgan cast an irritated look Jessica's way before slipping out of their shared apartment. Jessica could only shake her head before following suit. She was half tempted to follow Morgan, and honestly almost did. Last time she went out (which was last night) her younger sister came home mildly injured.  
  
       "Oh, God damnit," Jessica huffed as she began trailing Morgan.

       Though it was only kind of late, the sun having only recently sunk below the horizon, Jessica managed to somehow lose Morgan in the crowd. Which, was a strange feat in itself considering she was a Private Investigator. The female professionally tailed people for a  _living_. Yet, here she was, losing her target in the endless sea of New Yorkers.  
  
       "You’re not very stealthy,” Morgan was suddenly standing beside Jess. A look of utter discontent painted on her features. “Have you no trust?”  
  
       “I trust you,” Jessica carefully planned her words, something she rarely did. “I just don’t trust who you’re hanging out with.”  
  
       “Thompson?”  
  
       “Yes..?”  
  
       “Figures,” Morgan uttered softly, turning and melting back into a group of people, leaving Jessica with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something bad was going to happen if only Morgan would listen. It didn’t matter now. Whatever happened had to be on Morgan. She had a case to worry about.


	2. AKA Biting the Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Co. capture Kilgrave, but is it really time to celebrate?

       Twenty-five days came and went, bruises and broken bones were collected like shity souvineers from the day gone by. Every night Morgan Jones's physical state got worse and worse, it was clear something was going on. However, deciphering what that was had been the hard part. At first, Jessica assumed Thompson, but he vehemently denied any accusations, claiming that Morgan rarely made time for him anymore. Jessica had no sympathy for him. But he did aid the both her and Trish. He updated the two on her usual haunts, Jessica learned more about her sister in two hours than she had in three weeks. It felt like they had gone from being good (dare she say, _best_?) friends to perfect strangers who shared an apartment.

       All the sudden, the late night stopped. One morning, after a particularly rough night, Jessica stumbled into the living room to see Morgan sprawled out on the orange couch. Lips forming a soft ‘O’ as her soft snores filled the room. Jessica didn’t have the heart to wake her up. Morgan slept till noon that day and when she woke up, even though she looked like battered and beaten hell, the Jones was the most her she’d been in a while. Jessica didn’t expect it to last. The other shoe would drop eventually.

       It never did. The next morning Morgan was right back on the couch. Once again, Jessica had allowed her to stay asleep. Still not having the heart to wake up her sleeping sister. It took another four days for Morgan to fully heal, okay, not _fully_ , but she was capable of moving around without constant pain wracking her body, the knicks and bruises were a whole nother story. Though Morgan insisted they weren’t painful, Jessica had to wonder.

       On the fifth day of her recuperation, against everyone’s wishes and even her own bodies limitations, Morgan joined the fight against Kilgrave. Of course, a lot had happened since she’d went AWOL. (Trish’s words, not hers) An overly eager police officer - Simpson - decided he was apart of the team. Truth be told, neither Jones sibling cared for him much. Sure he was helpful and ready to do anything. But he just seemed _off_ , Trish had just chalked it up to their overly paranoid nature. Jess reluctantly agreed. No amount of rationalizing helped. Trish was a great sister and an even better friend, but Morgan couldn’t help but question her sometimes. The blonde had the nasty habit of assuming too much about someone's character.

       None of that could matter today. The rag-tag team had finally planned everything out. _Today was the day_. There was absolutely no room for error, _everyone_ got that memo. Perhaps that’s what prompted the argument that ensued only hours before they were supposed to get Kilgrave.

       “I still think a bullet to the head would be much more effective,” Simpson grumbled. The blond man was leaning into the van’s window. His blue-eyed gaze tossed itself between Trish, Jessica, and Morgan. There were a few beats of tense silence before the girl seated in the back spoke up, head popping out between the two seats in the cab.Green eyes narrowed in on the overzealous officer and just the slightest hint of a scowl had formed on pale lips.

       “Really? Because I beg to differ and I betcha you twenty bucks and a pack’a gum that there’s a woman sitting in the county jail who’d agree with me.” Simpson’s face twisted into a look of utter disapproval. In the days leading up to this, both the cop and Morgan had more than a few verbal disagreements. Seemed like today wouldn't be any different.

       “Oookay…” Trish decided to interject before things escalated once more. They all needed to be on the same page. “Jess, the plan? Run through it with me one more time, it’ll help calm my nerves,” a chuckle forced its way from her throat. Nervous didn’t even scratch the surface as to what Patrica was feeling.

       “Get the van as close as you can,” Jessica gathered the sufentanil darts and loaded a few into the gun before reluctantly handing it to Simpson.

       “Yeah, just don’t let anyone see you,” Morgan gave Trish a kind smile and zipped her jacket up. “I'm sure you’ll be fine.”

       “And you’re gonna need to haul ass to the sealed room before he wakes up.” Oh, Jessica, ever the encouraging one. Trish didn’t seem to mind, she took a deep breath and nodded at her “sisters.”

       “Got it.”

       “If anyone walks up, pretend to be one the phone,” Simpson glanced to the driver before resting his hand on the door handle. “Do not engage.”

       “She’s a celebrity, she’s used to dealing with weirdo’s, _usually_.” Jessica tossed an accusatory glance between the two sitting in the cab, Morgan covered up her laugh with a cough. Jess was definitely not wrong there.

       “Yeah, well, she’s dealt with you two all these years so, naturally.” _Ouch._

       “Okay, let’s just go back to tense silence. That worked much better.” _Saved by the Trish._

       The peace, if that’s what it could be called, didn’t last long. In Jessica’s next breath, she announced that it was time. Morgan had thought she was ready for this, as they tailed Malcolm, nerves began to sink in. A million things could go wrong, there were very few ways that this could go right. The silence created tension and pure focus, Morgan’s mind kept jumping to the negative. Malcolm was sliding in the seat next to Kilgrave. He nervously glanced around and slid a large manila folder out of his jacket. Morgan’s brows furrowed, “what's he doing?” Jessica didn't even bother looking over.

       “He's trading pictures for drugs”

       “Pictures of?” It only took a moment for Morgan to understand, her eyes widened for a second before she shook her head. _Man, was I out of the loop._ Silence followed the question, and for good reason to. Simpson was almost into position when a loud popping noise garnered the attention of Kilgrave, his gaze was torn from the photos.

       “I’m almost there,” Simpson murmured. Morgan didn’t like him, true, but she could admire his focus and drive.

       “No, don’t. If he sees the gun…” Jessica trailed off, dark hazel eyes glanced between the three events going on. Trish was driving up, Simpson was almost there and Kilgrave, _god damn it,_ Kilgrave was still staring in Simpson’s general direction.

       “Oh hell,” Jessica pushed away from the gate and started walking towards the two men seated at the table. Morgan was too far into her own little world to notice her sister’s absence. That was until she started shouting obscenities at Kilgrave. He looked beyond surprised to see Jessica, even more so when Morgan joined her side. Simpson took the shot and the next few moments, Morgan only can recall in snapshots.

       Jessica picking Kilgrave up, them getting into the van, the van speeding off. The most memorable thing about all of this wasn’t the fact they actually got Kilgrave - it was the look on Malcolm's face when he saw her. She had done so much for him and this.. Morgan shook those thoughts free from her head and glanced down at the sleeping, almost lifeless body of Kilgrave. Had they actually won this round? The optimistic part of her said yes, but the realist, bordering pessimist, said no. That this was all just the beginning.

_And oh boy, was she right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this update took so long. I was really struggling with where to take this, but I think I've got things figured out. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, regardless!


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